


❝Say Yes❞

by ScooBiNatural



Series: Dean’s Guide to Surviving The End [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9000 words of pure porn, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, BDSM, Begging, Blasphemy, Bondage, Bottom!Lucifer, But still gonna tag this as dub!con because... reasons, Cock Ring, Coming untouched (almost), Consent, Crying, Dean and Sam's Codependency, Demon Nick, Dom Dean, Dubious Consent, Episode: s05e04 The End, Exhaustion, Explicit Consent, Explicit Torture, Fingering, General Dean Winchester - Freeform, Good Boy Lucifer, Improvised torture tools, Inspired by a gif of Dean Rimming Lucifer, Kinky Shit, M/M, March Madness, Masochism, Mind Games, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Pain Kink, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Prayer Porn, Professional Torturer Dean Winchester, Psychological Torture, Rimming, Sadism, Solomon's Circle, Spanking, Sub Lucifer, dean being a badass, dirty prayers, dom/sub elements, fantasies, improvised cock ring, let me know if there's anything else I need to tag but I think I got it all, mind-reading, sir dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScooBiNatural/pseuds/ScooBiNatural
Summary: This is the way the world ends.This is the way the world ends.This is the way the world ends.Not with a bang but with a whimper.- T.S. Elliot "The Hollow Men">>><<<[[The tags should say it all]]





	❝Say Yes❞

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soo_lazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soo_lazy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ducifer Rimming .gif](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/363438) by Soo_Lazy/purrfectmochi. 



Dean’s eyes narrow as he’s picked back up off the ground, his snapped neck knitting itself back together before he can die in peace. All these years fighting the devil and he lost everything anyways… and now Lucifer won’t even let him just die; won’t let his miserable, fruitless existence End.

The End. Like a bedtime story. What he wouldn’t do for that right now.

He stays limp, not making it easy for the archangel to pick him up and carry him off to God-probably-doesn’t-even-know-where. Lucifer doesn’t complain, and he’s strangely careful with how he cradles Dean bridal-style in Sam’s arms. All Dean knows is that it’s bright here, in stark contrast to the cloudy grey-ness that shrouded the world ever since Heaven barricaded itself up and cut itself off.

It’s been so long since Dean was this close to his brother’s body, and it hurts to feel Sam hold him close like this, and to know that it’s not really Sam; it hasn’t been Sam in almost a decade. Dean should never have left Sam alone. He should be the one holding his brother now, supporting him and telling him everything is going to be all right, that this isn’t his fault, while they watch the world end.

Dean keeps his eyes closed, not fighting Lucifer, and refusing to acknowledge the devil while he thinks of things that could have,  _should have_ been.

“I can hear your thoughts, Dean,” Satan says with Sam’s voice, too gently for the monster in his brother’s skin. “Rude. And just after I spared your life, too.” Dean vehemently thinks about right where Lucifer can stick his damn  _mercy_ , which draws a soft laugh from the archangel. Dean knows that the only reason he’s alive right now is because Lucifer thinks he can get some kind of enjoyment out of his suffering. Well, he won’t get anything from Dean. The former hunter doesn’t give a single damn about what Lucifer wants. “Now, that really hurts. You’re wrong, actually. I promised Sam that when I won, you’d be safe. I’m just keeping my word. You know, nothing personal.”

 _Liar_ , Dean mentally spits at him, but his heart clenches at the thought that Sam sacrificed himself to Lucifer to keep him safe, even after Dean pushed him away. “Dean, I would never. Why don’t you take a look around, I’m sure you’ll recognise the place.”

The suggestion makes Dean just want to shut his eyes tighter, but his curiosity gets the better of him, and he lifts his head a little to see where Lucifer had flown him.

First, he noticed the sky. It’s  _blue_ here, there’s some kind of unearthly force chasing the clouds away from this place. He can see them not far off, but here they’re nonexistent, letting the sun he hasn’t seen in five years shine down over them. Grass grew through rubble and cracked pavement, there was a tree thriving in the sunlight, its roots ripping up chunks of concrete and wrapped around a fallen fence... it was surreal. And in the center of this ethereal place was a house that Dean recognised with a shocked gasp.

The smile in Satan’s voice was obvious as he spoke again, “I’ve been saving this little place for you. Home sweet home, Winchester. This will be your front row seat to the remaking of the world.”

 

* * *

**[Several Months Later]**

Dean has been a lot of things throughout his life, but being the Devil’s prisoner has been the strangest experience thus far. Lucifer mostly left him to his own devices in his childhood home, letting Dean do as he saw fit with the house. In the months he’s been here, he’s managed to repair most of the surprisingly little damage and wear the dwelling has received since the Apocalypse. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the neighbourhood; many of the other houses were nothing but piles of rubble and debris. But there was occasionally a decent piece of furniture lying around, or some clothes that survived, and Dean went looking for these things every day to try and make his prison feel more like a home.

He’s stuck here, might as well try to enjoy it, right?

He was never left unsupervised, however. Usually, there was a demon hanging around to keep an eye on him, sometimes Lucifer himself, and there were always a few Hellhounds prowling the streets around his house to keep him from making a run for it.

He tried that a few times; he quickly had to accept that Hellhounds can run faster than he can, and Lucifer made sure he didn’t have access to anything even remotely anti-Demon. That actually gives Dean a bit of satisfaction, knowing that Lucifer went to such lengths to keep him in check. There’s not even a single blade or shard of glass amongst all the destruction on his childhood street. There’s metal fencing, but he can’t break any of that off, and if he tries, there’s a hellhound not far off that warns him against it. Dean chooses to take the caution as a sign that Lucifer is scared of what he’ll be capable of if he gives him even a single inch.

Dean was sitting in the little kitchen with mismatching furniture adorning it, staring down into his mug of watered-down instant coffee, planning how he’s going to fill his day when he hears a rustling of feathers that heralds Lucifer’s arrival. “I thought I told you to knock,” he gripes gruffly, picking up his mug and tossing back the remainder of his coffee.

“You did,” a voice Dean didn’t recognise answers, sounding amused and smug, “but I don’t take orders from you, Winchester.”

In surprise, Dean sets his mug down hard on the table and turns to look at a blonde man that Dean’s only ever seen in photographs. It was clearly Lucifer; Dean knew that smile all too well. “Where’s Sam?”

The smug, cat-like grin simply grew as the fallen angel answered him. “Resting. I like Sam, so I don’t want to wear him out too quick." His voice briefly takes on a more serious tone. "Even my  _true_  vessel needs a break every now and then."

Just as quickly as the vague sadness crept into his tone, it was gone. "In the meantime," he continues with renewed gusto, "I dug up my old vessel and I’ve been playing around with some  _really_ ancient magic to make him fit a bit better. You like?” He turns around as if he was modelling an outfit for Dean, “I’ve got my own body now, which means if you and Sam are good, I  _might_  just let you crazy kids have a little alone time.” 

The smile faded a bit before he continued, in a tone that was just shy of threatening. “Sam’s already been a real star, but you’re my resident troublemaker. I’ll admit, I’m reluctant to reunite you two, but Sam deserves it, so against my better judgement, I’ve decided to give you a chance to earn it.”

Dean waits expectantly, knowing Lucifer is reading his mind, and not feeling the need to verbally tell the other how badly he wants to see his brother. It brings the smile back to Lucifer's face, which Dean takes as a good sign.

The Archangel's stormy blue eyes glint with mirth as he takes the nonverbal response and continues. “So agreeable, that’s good. But you do understand that I know you’ll say  _anything_  I want to hear just to get five minutes with Sam, don't you?" Lucifer pauses, taking his time with this proposal so he can watch Dean's frustration and impatience grow with each passing second. 

"Out of the two of us, I’m the one that needs convincing. So, I’m bored, and I’m thinking we can kill two birds with one stone here." Lucifer pulls one of Dean's mismatched chairs out and flips it 'round, plopping down in it saddle-style. "I need to test out how durable the spells on this vessel are, and you need me to give you something you want," he explains jauntily, "Namely: Sam."

"I've mulled it over, and this is my solution; you get twelve hours--plenty of time for Sam to rest up before you get a chance to see him--and for the duration I am putting myself entirely at your mercy. If you make me say ‘Yes’ at any point, you win, and I’ll take you to see Sam when the time’s up. You don’t? too bad, so sad." He mock-pouts, leaning forward precariously on two legs of his chair. "Do we have a Deal? Make your decision quickly, the clock starts now.”

Dean hesitates for just a second; “What  _exactly_  do you mean by ‘entirely at my mercy’?”

“Twelve hours where you have free reign, and I won’t fight back.” Lucifer shrugs. “It’s not like you can kill me, and I’m literally asking you to do your worst, so no revenge later either."

As he explains, he lets the chair thud loudly back onto all four legs. "C’mon, I know you’ve been dying to take a shot at me all these years. This is your bingo free space, Winchester.” He taps his bare wrist, “Eleven hours and fifty-nine minutes now. Tick tock.”

Dean makes up his mind, nodding as he moves closer to Lucifer, considering where he wants to punch the lanky blonde first. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’ve I gotta make you do again? I wasn’t listening.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, standing up as he senses Dean's resolve and slipping off the jacket of his all-white suit. “Really, Dean, do you ever pay attention? You just have to make me say--” Lucifer halts mid-sentence, realising at the last second that Dean was trying to trick him into saying it. “Nice try. Nope.” He set his jacket neatly on the back of a chair, and as he turned back to keep his eyes on Dean, the man’s fist collided with his cheek, making him lose his balance and stumble back a few steps.

It took him by surprise, and the shock of it caused Lucifer to feel a little rush of adrenaline for the first time since he took over the world. He came back around grinning, with a trickle of blood dripping from his nose. “Very nice, maybe next time try to hit less like a grandma though,” the blonde taunts, wiping the trail of blood from under his nose with his thumb.

If that isn’t an invitation, Dean doesn’t know what is. Lucifer is right. He’s been waiting for  _years_  to get the chance to beat Lucifer’s face in. And now, he’s neither wearing Sam’s face, nor is he fighting back, and Dean can’t stop his fists as they fly into Lucifer’s face again and again, until Dean is straddling Lucifer’s chest, senselessly beating his face in until the archangel stops making snarky comments.

Dean Doesn’t even have words for Lucifer right now; all he feels is rage that he’s kept in check for far too long--white hot and endless. He’s not even trying to get Lucifer to say Yes at this point, no: this is just revenge, for him, for Sam, for his Mom, for Castiel, for Bobby, Ellen, and Jo; for every person Dean ever cared about, and for every other person on this planet. 

When he finally stops, Lucifer’s face is a barely recognisable, bloody and bruised mess. The archangel spits blood to the side when Dean’s fists still, equally as bloody and bruised as the face they’d just practically bashed in. Lucifer’s arms were pinned to his sides under Dean’s knees, and he looked pretty helpless like this, pinned and beaten to a pulp.

With a disgusted scoff, Dean starts to casually wipe his fists clean on Lucifer’s dress shirt. “Heal yourself,” he demands frigidly, grabbing the front of Lucifer’s shirt as he stands and dragging the bloody angel up with him. “I haven’t even started yet.”

The blonde spits blood again, and manages a bloody smile before his face returns to normal; healthy and skin unbroken. “Ooh, you’re giving me chills, Dean-o. Eleven hours and forty minutes left.”

Just for that, Dean strikes him with a swift backhand to the face, using the hand with a ring on his finger and leaving Lucifer with a nasty cut on his cheek. “Shut up. I’m keeping track, jackass.” He shoves Lucifer into a chair roughly and leaves him there while he retrieves some of the things he’s collected over the past few months. A hose, some cable wires, and a jump rope. Between it all, it should be enough to tie Lucifer up.

He dearly hopes he’s been reading Lucifer right, because this is going to be a massive waste of time if Lucifer isn’t as afraid of being restrained as Dean thinks he is. It’s just little things, Lucifer never wearing a tie, never putting Dean in a real prison, his destruction of the cage to ensure he’ll never be trapped there again... Little things, but when Dean has nothing better to do than watch and analyse his captor, those little things say a lot.

As promised, Lucifer doesn’t fight back, watching with carefully concealed apprehension as Dean straps him uncomfortably tight into the chair, securing his upper arms to the chair’s back, and then his legs to the chair’s legs first. The rest of his makeshift ropes are wrapped around Lucifer’s torso so tightly that if he were human, it’d be difficult for him to breathe.

And when he’s done, Dean drags Lucifer’s chair across the room, bringing him to a halt in the centre of it, and smiling as he wipes some of the blood from Lucifer’s face and then reaches up to finish the last line in a trap on the ceiling with the blood. He’s left it like that, unfinished so the demons won’t notice it. A Solomon’s Circle; the most powerful kind of trap there is. Nothing Holy or unholy can escape it, and it’s even rumoured to be able to hold God. Dean, of course, didn’t spend almost a decade fighting a war against Lucifer and not find out what can hold him. He’s used this before on the devil, tricking him into it so he and his team can escape. Lucifer thought that not leaving Dean any paint would stop him from making one; but he forgot that Dean can still use his own blood.

Lucifer’s eyes flash with apprehension and fear for the first time since this started, and the sight gives Dean  _such_ a rush of satisfaction. “I bet you’re regretting giving me free reign, huh?” Dean smiles darkly, circling Lucifer as he decides how he’s going to try pulling a “Yes” from him. It’ll be hard; Lucifer is almost definitely a masochist.

The Devil doesn’t give him an answer, his eyes just flicking back to Dean from the circle on the ceiling. It suppresses his powers too, so he can’t just earthquake the trap apart. It should weaken him enough to keep him from breaking out of the makeshift ropes binding him to the chair, too. In short, he really is at Dean’s mercy, 

The silence earns him another slap, tearing the cut on his cheek open wider. “I asked you a question, bitch.”

That earns him a glare from the blonde, but the expression quickly smooths over into a blasé smile. “So you tied me to a chair, and stuck me under a finger painting. Ingenious. What next, a riding crop? And I thought  _Sam_ was the kinky one.”

Dean releases a frustrated growl, punching Lucifer in the gut so hard that the chair almost falls over. “Don’t  _ever_ talk about Sam like that again. Do you understand me?”

“Like what? Don’t talk about how Sam fantasises about me?” He braces for the expected punch, and keeps talking even after Dean breaks his nose again. “He does, a lot. All kinds of delicious fantasies about what he’d do to me if we were in separate bodies. He stopped hating me a long time ago, you know. The more he hated me, the more he hated himself, and it got too hard on the poor guy.” Dean keeps throwing punches, yelling in frustration, and Lucifer just keeps talking. “And now that I have my own vessel, when I’m done here with you... I might just go let him live out all those fantasies of his.” He spits blood to the side again, giving Dean a red-tinged smile while he watches the military man breathe heavily, bloody fists clenched at his sides. “Better watch that temper of yours, Dean. You won’t get me to say  _anything_ like that.”

The former hunter and leader of the human resistance gives an angry growl, and all he wants to do is wipe the stupid smile off Lucifer's face, but the devil is right. He has a limited amount of time, and he can't let Lucifer get to him like this or he won't get to see Sam. He needs to keep his head. If Alistair taught him anything about torture and interrogation... it's that you can't let yourself get emotional or you're already losing.

Dean paces around Lucifer, and then gets an idea. He still thinks the way to get into Lucifer's head is through mimicking the Cage, so he goes to the windows and draws the blinds shut; cutting off the only light source into the room. It's not pitch darkness, but it'll do, Dean thinks. He then goes to the stove. The house doesn't have any electricity, but he did get the running water and natural gas to work. He starts the stove, lighting it with a match, and then sets a metal serving spoon in the flames.

"You're going to regret pissing me off," He says quietly, knowing the angel can hear him even from across the room. He leaves the spoon where it is for now, heading back to Lucifer and crouching down by the side of his chair. The devil has gone quiet with the extinguished light, and Dean can't quite see his face, but he can practically smell the uneasiness rolling off him.

He leans in to whisper darkly in Lucifer's ear. "All you have to do to make this stop, make me free you, is say one little word. You know what it is." Dean doesn't elaborate or wait for a response, quickly grabbing one of Lucifer's fingers and snapping it backwards until he hears a sickening crack.

That time, Lucifer doesn't scream, but it only gets worse from there.

 

 

* * *

 

**[4 hours, and 23 minutes left]**

Lucifer is shaking.

Most of his fingers are broken, there are numerous bruises littering his vessel, and he has burn marks from the hot spoon in all the worst possible places. His dress shirt has been ripped open, and every inch of skin that wasn't protected by the makeshift bindings around him was black and blue, and covered in his own blood.

He's fully healed himself four times now, and he's really astonished that his vessel is handling both his grace and the physical trauma so well. The spells are really doing their job.

But Dean... Dean doesn't have a hair out of place. Once he got through his initial rush of anger, he closed himself off, being cold and efficient. The past 7 hours have been nothing but darkness, torture, and being trapped for Lucifer. He's tried riling Dean up again, but the human didn't fall for that trick twice; ignoring the Devil's taunts and slurs until Lucifer gave up on it and just tried not to give Dean the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Lucifer had been reading his mind the whole time, but it didn’t do him much good. Dean was single-minded and unpredictable in his tortures. He often didn’t know what he was going to do to Lucifer next until just a second before he did, which kept Lucifer guessing and surprised and  _constantly_  on edge like he hadn’t ever experienced before.

The tools available to Dean were limited at best, but he made the most of them, and was periodically rewarded by a cry of pain or a whimper, and very rarely an outright scream. But Lucifer was tough, and after seven hours of continuous torture, he continued to sit tied to that chair, bruised, bleeding, and  _shaking with laughter_.

It took Dean seven and a half hours to realise that he's not going to break Lucifer like this. 

He should have realised sooner that Lucifer is a masochist; he  _likes_  pain. You can’t torture a masochist the way Dean’s been trying to. (No matter  _how_ satisfying it is to hear Lucifer scream.) He should know this from previous experience but… it was simply so satisfying to beat the everliving daylights out of the thing he’s been locked in combat with for the past several years of his life.

Still, he knows he can’t get a Yes from Lucifer like this. 

“You fucker, you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” The only answer he gets is more laughter, with the shaking of Lucifer’s shoulders increasing for a moment. “Fine. I know how to deal with you.”

The blonde looks up questioningly at Dean, wondering what he’s about to try now. “Oh, do you?” His eyes shine with mirth while he teases the human. “If the past seven hours and thirty-two minutes are any indication… I’d say you don’t.”

Dean rolls his eyes, not slapping Lucifer for his sass this time. “That was just a warm-up, you’re gonna wish you’d just let me see Sam, asshat.” 

“Ooo,” Lucifer grins, perking up as Dean starts to untie him. “I’m already liking this.”

“I’m starting to think,” Dean starts gruffly, “that you just agreed to this to get someone to beat you up, kinky bastard.”

That comment earns Dean a snort of laughter from the Devil. “Perhaps... It’s not like anyone else on this rock has the balls to.”

Dean let out a soft huff at the admission.  _Figures_. “I’ll beat you up whenever you want me to, if you just say yes already,” Dean suggests, not really expecting it to work.

“Tempting,” Lucifer replies, giving a semi-thoughtful hum. “But you’d do that anyways. Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this as much as I am, Winchester.” He’s not wrong, but then, he can read minds so Dean isn’t surprised that he knows. “But tell ya what, I’ll give you an extra hour just because I had so much fun.” He rubs his wrists when the bindings fall all the way off, but Lucifer doesn’t stand up. Though he wouldn't dare let Dean know, all the torture and healing himself is actually tiring him out. It's a good kind of tired though, like the way your body aches after a long day of work, and you could just curl up somewhere soft and warm and take a ten-hour nap.

"Won't need it," Dean responds confidently, and kicks the chair backwards with one boot, Lucifer still in it. The most effective way to deal with a Masochist is to Deny them what they want. He thinks the best way for Lucifer specifically would be isolation, but since there's a time limit, that really wouldn't be effective at all. So Dean has to create something that Lucifer wants, which he can't have once the time is up. He has a pretty good idea, which is why the extra hour would actually work against him.

Lucifer groans on the floor, having fallen backwards and rolled a foot or so from the chair (stopped at the very edge of the Solomon's circle). He's holding the back of his head, and Dean is pleased to see that he hit the floor hard enough to make him react with the pain. He pulls Lucifer back up, half-dragging him back to the chair, which he intends to use to hold Lucifer still again, but in a different way.

He pulls Lucifer over the chair, belly-down, and pulls his shirt the rest of the way off before tying his arms tightly to the front legs of the wooden piece of furniture. Lucifer doesn't struggle, just watching Dean curiously. He's stopped reading Dean's mind for the most part, deciding that he likes being surprised better. "Whipping? This oughta be good."

Dean only gives him a noncommittal grunt in response, ripping Lucifer's white suit pants off (and revealing the actually-not-too-surprising lack of boxers underneath). Lucifer shudders, now looking very confused as he finds himself totally naked under Dean's eyes. His knees are pulled apart, and then his forcibly legs are tied to the back of the chair. He squirms a bit this time, but doesn't complain or try to get away from it.

Satisfied that he can't move much, Dean stalks away to take his own shirt off and hang it on one of the other dining room chairs. As he returns, he notices with some amusement that Lucifer is already mostly hard, probably from the torture. "Not whipping," he finally answers, and kneels behind Lucifer, not touching him yet. "You said I could do anything, right?"

Lucifer doesn't answer right away, chewing his lip and wondering if he actually does want to see where Dean is going with this. "I did say that. But if you want more definite consent, sure, go ahead. Do your worst. But it's not gonna work."

Dean nods at the response, and does touch Lucifer, but gently, unlike his treatment before. He can tell that Lucifer thinks he's intending to be violent, from the other's reluctant tone, but that's not his intention at all. He's going to make Lucifer feel so good that he'll be  _begging_  for Dean, and he'll say yes because he knows if he doesn't before the time is up, Dean won't give him what he wants.

But still, the reluctance makes him think; Lucifer hasn't shied away from pain this whole time, so why would he now? "… Are you a virgin?"

"… No," but the blonde takes just a second too long to scoff at the question.

Dean's hand stops where it was on Lucifer's back, massaging his tensed muscles. "Don't lie to me."

When Dean catches his fib, Lucifer hangs his head. "Not by choice. There's never been an opportunity."

That answer is more satisfying, and Dean gives a thoughtful hum at it, continuing to massage Lucifer's back. "Then I'll be gentle," he promises, and tries to pretend that Lucifer isn't the devil; the creature that took his brother from him. He tries to focus on the fact that if he does this right, this might also be that creature that gives his brother back to him.

It takes a long time for Dean to get Lucifer to relax, and he spends almost half an hour just touching him, massaging his back and caressing his most sensitive areas. Dean finds that Lucifer loves having fingers in his hair, and behind his ears, but his neck is off-limits. He likes it when Dean kneads the muscles on his back, but he gets skittish if Dean brushes his fingers down his sides or over his stomach. Caressing his inner thighs makes the blonde shiver and dragging his nails down any part of Lucifer's body makes him moan. Dean touches him in every way he can think of; but he doesn't  _once_ kiss him. This isn't romantic, it's a means to an end, and Dean wants to be clear on that distinction with both Lucifer and himself.

When the former hunter thinks he's learned enough to know what he can do to make Lucifer feel good, he drags his hands down the other's body, finally moving onto the Archangel's ass. He's got a nice one, Dean has to admit, and if he'd met this guy Lucifer is wearing before he was possessed, he'd probably flirt with him.

Lucifer, for his part, is clearly enjoying himself, and though he can’t move much, he’s pressing back into Dean’s hands at every touch, arching into every caress and shivering at every scratch of Dean's nails against his skin. If his dick seemed a little interested before, it  _definitely_  is now.

A thought suddenly occurs to Dean, and he stops, his hands freezing where they were squeezing the devil's tight butt. "This guy you're wearing... is he okay with this?"

Lucifer was panting softly, and at the question, he swallows thickly and tries to turn enough to look at Dean. "He's dead. Died when I possessed Sam and became a demon because Heaven wouldn't let him in." If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say Lucifer sounded sad about that. "I gave him Azazel's place as one of my Princes. This body is all mine now."

Dean nods, accepting the explanation and remembering the other yellow-eyed demon he'd met once before. Nikolai, he'd called himself. "We've met. He doesn't really seem like the demon-type."

"No," Lucifer agrees warmly. "He doesn't. He is a kind person." He doesn't elaborate, and his tone tells Dean that no amount of persuasion would convince him to, either.

Hearing the Archangel's warm tone in reference to his former (and current, sorta) vessel catches him by surprise. Dean never in his wildest dreams expected Lucifer to say anything nice about a human. He doesn’t have time to think about it too much, though, so he just gives the other a hum of acknowledgement before continuing. 

The Devil gasps quietly when Dean finally brushes his thumb across Lucifer's hole, and his whole body stills for half a second as Dean pauses there, and then continues on, not pressing in. "Fuck, Dean..." The angel pants softly, bowing his head with a mixture of elation and disappointment.

Dean doesn't respond, just smiling to himself as he continues to tease the archangel. He's really got Lucifer here, like this. And he's enjoying himself, too. Maybe it's just because he's got  _Lucifer_  falling apart under just his hands, whispering his name like a prayer, but whatever the reason, he's a lot more turned on than he thought he'd be by this.

It's a good while longer of Dean kneading and teasing Lucifer's inner thighs and ass before he finally bends down, pulling the blonde's pale cheeks apart to spit on his hole. By that point, Lucifer has gotten so used to Dean touching and manhandling him that he hardly reacts, just canting his hips back in invitation. He's already started to get impatient, and keeps whining Dean's name in askance, but never actually asking for anything. Dean knows Lucifer too proud for that; the hunter is  _counting_  on it. 

Lucifer won't beg. But if all he has to do is say one little word to get what he so clearly wants... maybe Dean can persuade him to do that.

With the minimal lubrication supplied by Dean's spit, he finally presses his thumb into Lucifer's entrance, laughing softly as Lucifer takes a sharp intake of breath. "Like that, huh? Want more?"

Instead of answering, Lucifer pushes back against Dean's hand, forcing the digit in further and moaning deep from his chest. Dean has to lick his lips and swallow to keep from making a similar noise, his eyes darkening at the sight of his thumb disappearing mostly into the Devil.  _God_ , that's hot.

"Forget Him," Lucifer replies to Dean's unsaid thought with a voice already rough and heavy from their activities,  _"I'm the only God you need._ "

The second half of Lucifer's statement rang through Dean's mind as well as his ears, and it both freaked him out and got him even more aroused than before (if that was possible). With that sentiment in mind, Dean growls, determined to show the mouthy being who's the boss here. His thumb roughly presses all the way in, as deep as he can get it in Lucifer's virgin ass. He had originally intended to take it slow, give Lucifer time to adjust, but if the archangel is going to try to seize back control like that, then Dean will just have to be a little rougher than planned.

When the blonde moans and clenches down, Dean gives his ass a hard slap, smirking at the resounding clap of flesh. While Lucifer shudders, Dean pulls his thumb out, spitting on his hole again before pressing the thick digit back inside and working on getting him stretched just a bit more for what Dean has planned. He has his second hand gripping Lucifer's hip now, holding him in place so that he can't push back anymore.  _Dean_  is controlling the pace.

Lucifer's hands are white-knuckled on the legs of the chair he's secured to, and moans and praises fall from his lips until Dean pulls his thumb out and gets a bruising grip on Lucifer's hips with both his hands. The Devil's body is shaking slightly again, but not at all like before. It's an unsteady kind of shakiness, like his body is feeling so much at once that it's getting exhausted just from overstimulation. Dean gets the feeling that if it weren't for the bindings keeping him in place, Lucifer would've collapsed forward already. He really is a virgin, and one who just so happened to be having his first time at the hands of an expert. That thought amuses Dean, and he briefly wonders if Lucifer was saving himself for anyone, and if so, how it feels to know that Dean's going to have him first.

At his thought, Lucifer lets out a long groan, pulling against his bindings and Dean's grip in an attempt to rut forward on the edge of the chair. He doesn't succeed, but the attempt makes Dean laugh. "Stop teasing," the blonde demands in a growl, shuddering as Dean thinks about how—if he didn't need Lucifer to say yes—he'd gag the sonofabitch. "Stop  _thinking_  about it and fucking fuck me already." He tries to rut forward again; needy, impatient, and already leaking for Dean.

Oh, and that just won't do at all, Dean thinks, letting go of Lucifer for a second so he can go retrieve something. "No, uh-uh, you don't get to come until I say so," Dean tells Lucifer mildly, going to one of the kitchen drawers and rummaging through it. "I don't have any faith in your self-control, so I'm gonna have to improvise."

He comes back with two thick rubber bands; they're not ideal, they're be uncomfortable and too tight... but they'll do the job.

It's not like Dean really cares about Lucifer's comfort.

Lucifer doesn't hold still for him, calling Dean every dirty name under the sun as he reads the hunter's mind and learns what a cock ring is, and what it does. His struggling doesn't impede Dean much, and Dean manages to snap one of the rubber bands tightly around the base of his cock and balls, with the other one secured painfully tight near the head, effectively cutting off the circulation of blood to his dick.

The blonde makes a beautiful sight underneath him, bound in every way and twisted around to glare at Dean with red eyes that he's only seen once or twice before.

With a cocky half-smile, Dean gives Lucifer's ass a playful, light slap. "I'll say this once. That's not coming off until you say yes. I'm not fucking you until you say yes. I will, however, keep you on edge like this every last second until my 12 hours are up, and if you don’t say yes before then... well, you'll never know just how good I can make you feel, Lucifer." He rubs Lucifer's ass again, admiring the reddening handprint from his first spank. "So I'll ask you nicely just one time; do you want my cock, bitch?"

Lucifer responds with a snarl, pulling viciously against his bonds and making the chair groan. "Go to Hell."

"Already there," Dean responds smoothly, “And I’ll gladly drag you down with me.” A part of him is kinda glad that Lucifer decided to be difficult. He enjoys making the usually so…  _powerful_  and cold monster fall apart and moan his name. Each whimper and every shiver of pleasure Dean pulls from Lucifer feels like a win, and he’s had  _far_  too few of those in his life. 

He decides Lucifer’s other asscheek needs a matching handprint, and smiles at the way Lucifer whines and writhes when he’s spanked a second time. “I had other plans for you…” Dean starts, dipping his thumb between Lucifer’s cheeks and huffing at the way Lucifer desperately tries to push towards his digit, “but since you’re being such a pain, maybe you deserve a spanking first.”

The way Lucifer swallows at that statement is audible, and Dean immediately knows he found Lucifer’s guilty kink. Or, one of them, at least. The archangel tries to cover up his reaction with a low growl, but he’s already given himself away, and this is a temptation Dean just can’t resist.

Dean hums to himself, gently rubbing over the reddened flesh. “Let’s start with ten for now. Count them out loud for me, you know us humans, I’m not sure I can count that high,” he jokes, earning another frustrated noise from the Devil.

Lucifer is tense, keeping his head bowed and trying his damnedest to stifle the involuntary shuddering of his body. He indicated that he heard, though, and takes a deep inhale. Dean waits until Lucifer is totally still save for the shivers to land the first one. 

“One,” Lucifer bites out angrily, and before he can prepare for the next one, Dean slaps his ass again, even harder than the previous times. “T-two.” Lucifer keens under his breath, fighting to keep still. “Please, Dean—”

“Did I say you could talk?” Dean interrupts him roughly, giving Lucifer his third one (“three!” The bound angel breathes out) for interrupting him. “If you’re not counting, answering a question, or saying Yes, I don’t want to hear it.” He can feel the shiver that runs through Lucifer at his orders, and he can tell that though Lucifer would have him think the opposite, he likes Dean’s authority. “Do you want another ten?”

When there isn’t a response right away, Dean spanks him again. “I asked you a question, bitch.”

“Four, and n… no.”

“No,  _sir._ ”

Again, the archangel releases a high-pitched whine, shutting his eyes tightly. “No sir,” he finally responds, with much reluctance. “Don’t want another spanking, General Winchester, Sir.”

The recognition of his rank in the resistance pleasantly surprises Dean, and makes him sad at the same time. He supposes it’s a passive-aggressive kind of rebellion from Lucifer, but that’s a kind of rebellion that Dean doesn’t mind letting slide. He likes being called by his rank, and Lucifer must know that, too. “Good.” He pauses before giving in to a kink of his own, reaching up to run his fingers through Lucifer’s hair. “Good boy. How many do you have left?”

“Six, General.” He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the somewhat demeaning action, and Dean wonders off-handedly if it’s because he’s into it too, or if he just read Dean’s mind again and realised it wasn’t an insult. Lucifer must have at  _least_  sensed his approval of the title, and preferred that to ‘sir’, which lends credit to the former theory.

Dean briefly considers reprimanding him for it, but decides that the difference isn’t quite worth it. The respect behind the title is all that really matters. 

He brushes the back of his fingers over the angel’s quickly reddening and heated flesh, earning a quiet hiss from the other man. “Two more,” he warns softly, as a reward for Lucifer’s obedience.

In response to the warning, Lucifer breathes in deeply, lifting his ass up a bit in an open invitation. Yeah, he’s definitely loving every bit of this. Like he warned, the next two come hard and fast, one after the other, and one on each cheek. (“Five!” Pant, pant, “Si-six!”)

Lucifer squirms involuntarily, yelping the numbers out between gasping breaths. Dean can’t help but just think about how fortunate it is that Lucifer likes this so much; because Dean is turned on by this nearly as much as he is by just thinking about his original plans.

“Just four more,” he tells the shaking angel, kneading the stinging skin and drawing more whimpers from the other. “Just breathe.” He hasn’t been holding back, and between all the healing Lucifer’s already done for his vessel, and the Solomon’s circle, his suppressed grace must be wearing thin, and leaving him more vulnerable than usual. “You’re being very good for me, boy. Very good. Just four more, and then I’ll give you something nice, do you want something nice?”

His words and fingers draw more whimpers from the blonde, who nods frantically. “Please,” he half-sobs back to Dean, his tone full of shame. “Please General, I want something nice, General, sir.” 

He’s still careful not to say yes, Dean notices, which tips him off to the fact that Lucifer is perhaps less lost to his arousal than Dean thought. Either that, or he just has killer self-control. (Dean honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.) He did think, however, that Lucifer would cave and say yes before he resorted to begging. The fact that he was wrong on that account worries Dean slightly, but even more than that, he’s glad to find he was wrong.

Listening to Lucifer beg is music to his ears.

Dean softens his touch again, humming appreciatively at the angry red marks his hands have left on Lucifer. If this were a normal situation, and Lucifer wasn’t…  _Lucifer_ , then Dean would already be thinking about how much longer he can push his partner before he needs to give aftercare, and make sure those marks don’t swell up and irritate him for too long.

But this isn’t a normal situation, and his partner  _is_  Lucifer, so that isn’t a concern at the moment. Lucifer can snap his vessel back to good as new the second Dean breaks the Solomon’s circle. The only thing he really has to worry about is sending Lucifer into Subspace, which he doubts is likely to happen. Lucifer has too much pride to fall into that state of mind over Dean. 

Regardless, Dean is keeping an eye out for warning signs and symptoms, just on the off-chance that he’s wrong about Lucifer again.

He wouldn’t be totally opposed to it if it did happen, which is the sad thing. In that state, Lucifer would likely say yes just because Dean asked him nicely to, and his dilemma would be over. And, if Lucifer did need it, Dean wouldn’t be opposed at all to the idea of personally coaxing Lucifer back, if only for the opportunity to lord it over him later. He bets Lucifer would be the needy, cuddly type.

“Alright,” Dean comes out of his thoughts, still soothing Lucifer’s burning hot skin with gentle touches. “We’re gonna get these last four over with quickly. Tell me when you’re ready.”

A slightly hysterical snort comes from the blonde. “Ready as I’ll ever be… General.”

“If you say so,” Dean responds with his own snort, “Don’t forget to count for me, boy.”

His hand comes down once, and Dean waits just long enough for Lucifer’s quietly hissed “seven,” to land the next.

“Eight,  _fuck_ …” Dean’s hand comes down harder on the next one, punishment for the curse. His hand is stinging too now.

“Nn-nnine…” Lucifer releases a shuddering breath, his trembling body bracing for the final one.

Dean hushes the whimpering mess of a man beneath him, running his fingers through Lucifer’s hair again before winding back for the last one. It’s the hardest one yet, and Dean knows Lucifer is gonna feel it for the rest of the four hours, at the very least. Longer, if Lucifer for some reason chooses not to heal the bright red marks of Dean’s heavy hand.

“Ten—!” Comes the final number from Lucifer, gasping and red-faced. He struggles instinctively against his bindings again, desperately trying to get friction on his straining and choked-off dick.

Dean lets him, knowing how painful it must be for him to be so aroused, on the edge of orgasm, and unable to even put some pressure on his aching dick. The way dean has him arranged, he can only barely touch the edge of the chair if he really tries; definitely not enough to give him any kind of lasting satisfaction.

The tip of his dick is turning purple from the pressure building up behind it, unable to be released. If it’s half as painful as it looks, Dean is sure as hell glad that Lucifer promised no revenge on him later.

One positive thing he  _can_  say about the Devil is that he does keep his word. For all Lucifer’s many faults, he  _ha_ _s_  always been an honourable adversary. So when he promised no revenge and that Dean would get a chance to earn his right to see Sam, there was no question that he spoke the truth.

As for Dean, he’s not much better off in the arousal department, and he’s likely about to just get worse from here on out. His lower half is still fully clothed however, so the wet spot growing on his boxers is significantly easier to ignore. Exceptionally uncomfortable, though. He just takes pleasure in the knowledge that however bad it gets for him, it’s got to be way worse for Lucifer.

Up until now, Dean had been kneeling tall behind Lucifer, leaning mostly over him in order to access his whole back and to get a good angle for spanking the angel’s ass. But now he drops back to sit on his heels, waiting for Lucifer to regain control of himself before he gets a good grip on the other’s hips.

Harsh fingers pull Lucifer’s cheeks apart, and while Lucifer moans from the mixture of pain and pleasure, Dean finally dips forward and licks a long stripe up the cleft of Satan’s ass. Dean hears the blonde curse quietly, fidgeting in not-quite discomfort. “Dean…” He murmurs, trying to get the man’s attention, and receiving a growl of disapproval in response. “General Winchester,” he corrects himself, “I wanna…  _need_  to move, it hurts…” Lucifer whines helplessly, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself up like the bindings are forcing him to. “I’ll be good, promise not to come, but it hurts, please…”

Dean holds his breath, hardly believing the words leaving Lucifer’s lips. “Please, sir,” the blonde pants when Dean doesn’t do anything right away. “Wanna be a good boy for you, don’t need all this…” 

If Dean were a lesser man, he might’ve given in to the temptation. Lucifer was saying everything he wanted him to say, somehow knowing just how to make Dean want to lose control and fuck Lucifer until he’s screaming his name, making him come multiple times, untouched on Dean’s cock before Dean fills his ass so full of cum that it drips out and gets smeared all over his thighs.

Dean doesn’t waste any of his restraint on imagining it, knowing Lucifer is reading his mind. If he’s going to invade Dean’s mental privacy, then Dean is gonna make that another way to torture him. The former hunter gives Lucifer a real show, imagining every intimate detail of how he wants to fuck the archangel. 

Lucifer makes a low, strangled noise which dissolves into more whimpering as he’s pushed to the edge of orgasm and is prevented from reaching his release. "Please!" He sobs, hunching down as much as he can to hide the tears starting to form in his eyes. "Fuck, please, General, please, want that so bad, want you—"

"You know what you need to do," Dean interrupts him smarmily, unfairly calm and collected compared to the trembling archangel. He doesn't bother elaborating, deciding he should stop playing with Lucifer and start really using his time.

The Devil whimpers pathetically, but otherwise silences himself, still holding out. He doesn't know how much longer his resolve is going to last, though. He loves the pain Dean is inflicting on him... but with that pain comes immense  _pleasure_ and being kept from experiencing that pleasure fully is  _torture_  like Lucifer never imagined. 

He loves most everything, from gentle touches and loving words to bruising grips and demeaning insults. It's hard to find something he can't handle, because as someone who suffered total isolation for  _millennia_ _,_  Lucifer just loves the ability to  _feel._  To  _experience_  things. But to get him so close to something so good, and to keep him from experiencing it... he's slipping, and he can feel himself doing so.

He's already let go of his broken pride to beg for it, how much longer before he admits defeat altogether and gives Dean what he wants?

Dean sees a tear fall to the ground from Lucifer's cheek, and gets a rush of satisfaction from the sight. Nothing he's done until now has managed to get such a strong reaction from Lucifer. Breaking his fingers? Lucifer laughed. Burning anti-angel runes into his chest? That Bastard rolled his eyes and jerked his body so that Dean's branding spoon messed up and broke a line, burning him even more. He's screamed more than once, but that was always a knee-jerk reaction, something Lucifer couldn't control anymore than he could control his vessel's need to breathe.

But, tears? That's real emotion, real  _proof_  that Dean's on the right track.

With boosted confidence, Dean laves his tongue over Lucifer's perineum, listening to the Devil's sweet whimpers and he drags it roughly up, pulling Lucifer's red-hot asscheeks apart as he nears his destination. The hunter's tongue is lazy, slow, and irreverent as he caresses the pain-hot skin. It's obvious that touching Lucifer's ass right now hurts him, but the archangel doesn't seem to mind, trying to push back and get his tongue closer to his stretched and greedy hole while Dean teases around and over it, getting Lucifer even more worked up.

Like this, Dean can intimately feel the way Lucifer shakes and trembles under his touch; every time he presses into him and silently asks for more. He may not have said yes verbally, but his body is saying it for him, in every little shift and push towards the hunter; in every broken moan and needy whine; in every word that falls from his lips, and every time he calls his name,  _Dean_ _Dean_ _Dean_ _..._

The former General smiles briefly, knowing that he has Lucifer now, it's just a matter of time.  _Checkmate,_  he thinks, earning another shiver from the Devil.

He takes the slight distraction as an opportunity to finally dip his tongue inside the angel, fast and as deep as he can get. The other's hiccupped gasp tells him his timing was right, and that he caught Lucifer by surprise like he wanted to.

Dean licks deep inside the angel, limited in how far he can get but making sure that Lucifer  _feels_  it. Lucifer helps, pressing back and trying to get Dean deeper inside himself, it feels so  _good_  and he just wants  _more_. The pain of the spanking is off-set by the pleasure of feeling Dean's hot tongue stroking his insides, and Lucifer can't possibly hope to think when he's this aroused.

A moan rises up from the blonde, and Dean can  _feel_  the vibrations of it running through the devil even as he pulls back, letting the tip of his tongue trace the rim of Lucifer's entrance.

He archangel tries to push back again, get him back, and Dean pulls away completely, turning his head a little and  _biting_  down on Lucifer's ass, right on the reddest part of his skin. The Devil howls, not expecting that kind of sharp pain, and then dissolves into shuddering whimpers as Dean laves over the bite mark with his tongue. "No more moving," Dean growls, grazing his teeth against Lucifer's skin warningly before he buries himself once more in the blonde's red ass.

The angel obeys, holding himself still for the most part, save for the ever-present shivering. Dean can tell it's taking nearly all of his self-control not to rock his hips back anymore, and he revels in the Adversary's obedience.

As he fucks his tongue deeper into the other, getting him slick and stretched, Dean starts to pray to Lucifer, making sure that the archangel can't tune him out while he imagines how Lucifer would feel around his cock, all wet and tight and hot from his spanking. How he'll free lucifer's dick from the rubber bands and let him rock back onto his cock, but he'll keep him tied up like he is, nice and pretty like a present for himself. It is almost Christmastime, isn't it?

He starts to tongue-fuck Lucifer in earnest, praying to the angel about how much better it will feel for both of them with Dean's dick replacing his tongue. If he likes this, just imagine how something much bigger and longer will feel splitting him apart?

 _Don't you want that?_  Dean prays, listening as Lucifer quietly hiccups above him, fighting back sobs from the painpleasure _want_  feeling that's overtaken him. Dean pauses in his thoughts for a moment, putting all his focus on his tongue's ministrations while he searches for Lucifer's prostate. It doesn't take him long, and he knows he's found it when Lucifer chokes out a broken cry, unable to hold back the sobbing that follows, Dean's name,  _General_ the only coherent word his lips can form.

Dean finds the spot again, earning another broken cry as Lucifer struggles not to thrust into the empty air. And with a smug tone to his thoughts, Dean prays one more thing to the angel.  _Don't_ _you want me to take care of you?_

" _Yes_ ," Lucifer sobs, and it's a declaration of surrender. "Yes, yes I want that. I want you,  _yes."_ He shudders with the strength of an orgasm that he can't have as the need rips through him for at least the third time. (In the end, Lucifer was undone by a rubber band.) 

"Please,  ** _yes_** _General_ ," Lucifer begs through the tears streaming down his face.

And Dean draws back, eyeing the broken and gorgeously abused Archangel below him for a moment. He's delicious, and Dean would love...  _nothing more_  than to follow through on all those promises and give Lucifer the best fucking he'll ever experience.

But Dean has won, and he's not about to let Lucifer get his way now, not after all the Hell he's put Dean through over the past five years. "Mm, maybe next time," Dean replies jauntily, standing up and wiping his mouth off on the back of his arm. He, unlike Lucifer,  _did_  come when the Devil broke for him, utterly ruining one of his two pairs of jeans.

The former General reaches up and scratches a line through the blood that made up the Solomon's Circle with his thumbnail. "Free, as promised. I win."

Lucifer doesn't plead or look at Dean, seeing his resolve in his mind. "You promised..."

"I lied."

The Archangel's shoulders slump in defeat, and though he's now perfectly capable of doing so, he doesn't break through the bindings that he's been struggling against this whole time. "There's still over three hours left, please? I'm begging you, Dean, don't leave me like this..."

Dean can tell that Lucifer isn't going to leave the chair on his own anytime soon (he must've had more of an effect on the Devil than he thought he did), so he gets back near the blonde and ruffles a hand through his soft, sweat-dampened hair before kneeling down to start unbinding him. "Three hours which I will gladly spend resting up in my room before you take me to see Sam. Torture's an exhausting pastime," Dean tells him cheekily. "Guess you should've considered this when you killed all my friends. But, there's always next time. Who knows, maybe I'll feel nicer after some time with my brother."

Lucifer doesn't respond, knowing there's nothing he can say to make Dean change his mind, and frankly unwilling to try to force him into finishing it. It wouldn't be the same...

He collapses in a heap when Dean finishes untying him, curling up on the floor while feeling returns to his stiff limbs. The hunter gestures to his purple-and-quickly-approaching-blue dick before he starts to walk away. "You can keep the bands, I don't want them. And while you're still 'at my mercy', clean this place up, would you?"

And with that, he stiffly walks away, careful not to let Lucifer see the dark spot on the front of his jeans.

Lucifer curls in further on himself, vindictively smiting the rubber bands still cutting off the blood flow to his achingly hard cock. It only takes two pulls from his hand before he's coming all over the floor and himself, ropes and ropes of the stuff painting the dark wooden floor and his pale skin with streaks of milky white.

Everything temporarily goes white for Lucifer as the intensity of the orgasm tears through him, leaving him shaking and sobbing with relief on the floor. His arms wrap around himself of their own accord as he recognises that once again, he is left alone. This is the worst thing Dean could've done to him. At least when he was torturing Lucifer, he had the small consolation of touch and attention from another living thing. But now here he lies, alone and abandoned for something he can't fix. And he knows with absolute certainty the Dean isn't coming back for him.

Lucifer wishes he could just pass out, sob until the comfort of sleep overtakes him, but it would do him no good. Angels don't dream, they remember and Lucifer has nothing pleasant to recall.

After what feels like an hour, he finally picks himself up, snapping himself and the room clean; redressing himself, and drying his reddened eyes on his snow-white sleeve.

And as he dusts himself off and takes to the air to check on Sam, it's with purpose in his step. He  _will_  get Dean to make good on all those empty promises, no matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes him.

_Lucifer doesn't lose._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments give me life!


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